WDRSBN: The Apprentice Bookkeeper and Devil's Fledgling
by Bamboofoxfire Productions
Summary: In one year, he'd earn Allen's heart. In one more, he'd be forced to break it. [Prequel to White Demon, Red Scribe, Black Nightmare]


**A/N: **This is a prequel story to the fic _White Demon, Red Scribe, Black Nightmare_. Unlike the main fic, which I co-wrote with Shaerahaek, this side-story was written just by me. This particular fic is Laven only, no Kanda/Yullen anywhere. Sorry ya'll!

* * *

**The Apprentice Bookkeeper and Devil's Fledgling  
A D Gray-Man and Assassins Creed Brotherhood Crossover**

* * *

A wide shadow fell, and he cracked an eye open, glancing up in wonder of what had finally blessed them with some shade after miles upon miles of intrusive sunlight ruining his sleep. The side-to-side jostling of cart wheels was lessened slightly by the cushion of hay beneath him, though it did nothing to quiet the creaking of rods and joints, nor could it make him entirely miss when one of the wheels fell into a hole or a dip.

The archway gate they passed beneath was only a temporary relief, and when it passed them by, the sun assaulted his single eye. He groaned complaint under his breath and buried his face into the crook of his arm, trying to escape the sun's harsh glare.

_You can sleep on the way, _his mentor had told him, as the redhead was kept up all night, reading books and copying text. Far too much of it, were truth be told. _You can't write on a jostling wagon, but you can sleep._

Oh, how he wished to have given his old man a few choice words, but he held his tongue, as always, and did his job without complaint. He had chosen this path, so really, who was he to raise issue with it? It had been said time and again throughout history to be careful what you wished for. Truer words could never have been conceived, much less spoken.

There was the sound of people talking, of rattling wagon wheels and horse hooves that continued to march along steadily, of dogs barking and crickets chirping. Sunlight and shadow traded places as they passed objects and structures he was too tired and cranky to take interest in at the moment.

"Deak."

He perked and lifted his head drowsily, bits of hay sticking in unkempt, dark red locks.

"Hn? _Ow_! What was that for?"

"For forgetting so soon, you red-headed fool!" the old man sitting in the driver's seat chastised. The younger male blinked, then looked guilty for a moment. "Your name is _Lavi _now. You have to decondition yourself to the old alias."

"Right. Sorry," Lavi muttered, laying his head back down and yawning. He sighed aloud, figuring he may as well give up on sleep at this point. He'd catch up later, once the sun went down.

A single green eye - the other covered by a patch - surveyed their surroundings from where he rested his chin on the edge of the wagon, watching the Italian countryside go by. Many of the Roman structures were crumbling or in disrepair, bridges and aqueducts with entire segments missing, the remnant frames of buildings that may have been homes at one point, and scattered columns by the side of the road that appeared to have no purpose anymore. There was even a large coliseum they passed that appeared to have entire levels missing on one half, while the other half remained mostly in-tact.

While the countryside was very open, the city of Rome itself was very enclosed, crowded full of people and animals alike, with many narrow streets. To sum it up into one word, he would have to call it "claustrophobic". The architecture alone was worth a visit, though he was still a bit too drowsy to care much. He would certainly devote some time to exploring properly when he had more energy.

They had only just arrived in the country as the first events of King Louis XII's war began to unfold in Naples to the south of them, and Milan to the north.

Yet one more stupid war, waged by stupid people, likely for stupid reasons. He surveyed the crowds, and all he saw were herds of idiots, no better than flocks of sheep. People who would join in the effort to cause suffering. Others who would turn a blind eye to injustice and unimaginable cruelty. Yet more still who would become undeserving victims of the entire affair.

Dumb, senseless, savage creatures. Every one of them.

When they finally reached their destination, it was to a building in the Piazza Navona, just a few blocks west of the Pantheon. A half-flight of stone steps took them to a wood door facing a fountain with the statue of a man holding a trident atop it, a narrow window on either side with iron-wrought grates artistically crafted to look like olive vines.

The inside was outfitted with three rooms, two small bedrooms on either side and a main room, and its furnishings were composed of only the beds, a couch, and empty shelves.

"Lavi."

It didn't take him much imagination to know how the place would look after they'd settled in, though. A few dishes, but mostly books, and scrolls, and writing things.

"Lavi?"

Perhaps a few trinkets claimed from their travels here and there, some blankets...

"Deak."

"Yeah?"

_Thack!_

"Damn it, you old Panda!" Lavi yelped, clutching his head. It still amazed him how the old man could reach at his height, even though Lavi was quite a bit taller. "I know, I know already!"

"Good," Bookman stated curtly, giving his apprentice a last look of warning, before turning back to the door. "Then help me unload our things. You can't expect an old man to do it all, now can you?"

Lavi huffed aloud, rolling his eyes, but sauntered after none the less. "Yeah, yeah, coming!"

* * *

It was important for them to document the war going on between France and Italy, but that wasn't the only thing they were there for. Italy had a whole other appeal that Bookman thought would be good they got involved with, and that was the knowledge of medicine and anatomy it had to offer.

The location of their stay in the city was no accident. Two doors down was a doctor's clinic. Lavi already had a basic understanding of treating wounds. He had seen a lot of bloody conflicts already at only sixteen.

He knew how to set and splint a broken limb, to clean grit from a wound, how to disinfect, and stitch, and cauterize, though he was little help on anything beyond superficial wounds. Most of it he learned on the heels of his cranky old mentor or a field-surgeon. He could name a handful of common herbs used for a few different purposes, but most were painkillers, basic anti-inflammatories, and antiseptics.

He had never actually worked on a cadaver before though.

All of his _`patients` _had been living people, and he had merely been there by chance and asked to do something. It had nothing to do with taken sides or earning any gain out of it, save for the know-how in and of itself. He had seen people loose limbs, either to accident or injury, some of them by amputation. He'd seen heads and bodies without their other half a good few times, corpses that were gutted open or mangled, others burned and charred, whether it be on a funeral pyre or after particularly gruesome warfare using flame as a weapon.

He had lost his stomach more than once during his travels, that was for certain, but it still wasn't quite enough to prepare him for everything he had yet to learn.

Flaying was definitely an experience he had to add to his list of _things I never thought I'd ever have to do_.

It was both intriguing and sickening, usually all at once. Intriguing to see the underlying muscles and network of veins and fat and everything else, of seeing organs still contained to their proper place. Sickening to know he was basically skinning and dismembering something that was once living, breathing, and human just like himself, and corpse or not, it was far from a clean job.

What was important though was that it _did _help him gain a better understanding of what he was doing when it came to live patients.

Lavi didn't work with only the one doctor, but many throughout the city, learning all sorts of different quirks and techniques each had that others didn't, some of which was greatly more efficient, and others that seemed more pure myth and conjecture to him. One or two were even outright quacks, but Bookman insisted he stick through it and learn to differentiate the difference for himself, if nothing else than to give him a broader, more well-rounded education on the subjects.

On days where he wasn't busy with books and paperwork, or his medical studies, he would walk the city, taking in the sights of various structures, or simply wandering aimlessly to his own thoughts. When his legs grew tired, he would take rest on a bench beside the road, or to the far side against a building, even on a fence if that was what was available to him.

There were quite a number of factions to be aware of.

Militia was one, usually lingering in groups on the sides of the road.

Courtesans - often young ladies with no better way to survive, making a living whoring themselves out to men of all different caliber - waited on many of the corners or just outside and in the brothels, trying to seduce men and sometimes even other women out of their coin. There were a few throughout the city that caught his eye for one reason or another, but he never stooped so low as to partake in such acts, though he caught himself a few times entertaining the idea a little too much and made hasty, flustered retreats elsewhere, cursing his adolescent urges.

Another faction were the thieves, and he was lament to say he had had his pockets picked more than once merely walking the street, minding his own business. On the plus side, he never carried much coin for that very same reason. Thieves were common around the world, and that was especially true of war zones and places ravaged by economic inequality... which was pretty much everywhere if one looked to the right corners.

The Church was yet another, no surprise being that the Vatican was only a traipse through the city away.

Yet there was another he wasn't quite so familiar with, a presence that he only caught flashes of on most days. At first, he'd thought nothing of it, figures dressed in white robes, with a triangle-point hanging down off the top of their hoods, but the more he kept a look-out, the more he noticed them, not for their attire but for how they moved through the city, scaling buildings like squirrels and leaping across rooftops with the agility and grace of cats. It was not uncommon to see guards after them, and hear whisperings amongst the townspeople, many startled, some annoyed, others in awe.

Bookman explained to him that those were the Assassins, an Order he had only ever read about before then. If he had seen them elsewhere, he couldn't recall. He knew of the Assassins, as well as their sworn enemies, the Templars. He knew of powerful artifacts too, ones that most only assumed were part of fairytales, that each sought and warred after since before the time of Christ.

And then in the middle of it all sat them, the Bookmen Clan; ones whose interest lied in the Pieces of Eden as well, if only to watch from afar how the world would change as a result of their use.

It was three months into his training with the doctors that he had finally met some of them face-to-face, though it was not how he would have expected it to go.

He was working with a different doctor that day, in a clinic slightly south, isolated by the backs of many other buildings on an upper level, which overlooked the street below. The doctor had left about an hour prior, after a woman came running, fretting and panicking about a wagon crash and people injured by both cart and a startled horse that trampled a few unlucky passersby as it fled. He ordered Lavi to stay put, before following the woman to the site of the accident, leaving the teen by his lonesome.

A man swaggered up to the clinic, red hair a few shades lighter than Lavi's own and quite a bit longer tied in a loose ponytail behind his head, with bangs falling over one eye, the same side as Lavi's eye-patch. He wore a long, dark coat, but Lavi didn't fail to miss the white robes underneath it or the hood, and various items along his belt that looked like tools and weapons he had seen a handful of times before.

The man looked annoyed, and he wondered if it was because of the other figure slung over his shoulder, though all he could see of them were legs and rear, draped over by wide, white coat-tails in a similar fashion to the newly arrived man's.

Eyes that appeared almost amber-brown in color regarded him with sharp scrutiny, and the man frowned.

"Where's the usual guy that's here?"

"Out," Lavi supplied neutrally. "Taking care of a bad horse-wagon accident." He craned his head to see the figure slumped over his back. "I might be able to help you though, if you have someone with an injury or that's sick needing some care."

"Aren't you a little young to be playing doctor?" the man gruffed, before the figure over his shoulder kicked him in the underside of the ribs and managed to knock some of the breath from his lungs.

"Master, don't be so rude!" Lavi heard someone hiss as the figure on the man's shoulder sat up slightly, wiggling. "And you can put me down already! Its only a sprain!"

The carried figure got their wish, though it was far from gentle or ceremonious, as he was all but dumped ass-first onto the cobblestone street, letting out a hiss of pain. Lavi was sure he heard something to the effect of _you bloody arsehole _under the breath of the young man, catching barest hint of what he swore was probably an English accent, though more the rough end of it.

Lavi's attention shifted from the male on the floor, to the older one who stalked up to the counter and leaned over uncomfortably close, a glint in his eyes that was definitely worrying.

"If you're really a doctor, then take care of this brat and his leg, and whatever gods you believe in save you should anything unfortunate or questionable happen to him."

_Is that a threat? _Lavi couldn't help but wonder as the man turned and stalked away with an irritated briskness to his steps. He sighed and stood, leaving the stall to offer the remaining assassin a hand up.

"Nice friend you have there," he couldn't help but quip, all the while sizing the other up. The guy was younger even than he was, though Lavi had guessed as much from his shorter height. His skin was fair, but not too pale, with monochrome blue eyes that looked almost the color of steel. What was most unusual about him though was his hair, white as the freshest of snow, and a scar of unusual pattern marked his face from brow to cheek over his left eye.

"He's not always so unpleasant," the boy defended with a mild-mannered smile, glancing up and looking grateful for the offered hand. He paused, looking as though he was second-guessing his assessment, and laughed faintly. "Okay, well... most of the time he can be unpleasant, but not like he is today. I did something reckless and now he's in a foul mood and pissed at me."

"Sounds a lot like my old man," Lavi mused as he helped the white-haired boy over to the counter, where the lad hopped up to sit.

"The doctor?" Allen questioned, tilting his head. "I didn't know you were related."

"No, not him!" Lavi corrected as he slipped off the boot on the one leg he'd seen the boy keeping his weight off of. "Different guy. Real old, not just middle-aged. He makes you look tall."

The youth's smile wavered into a frown, and Lavi couldn't help but laugh at his change in expression.

"That's not funny!"

"Well I think it is," Lavi chuckled. The frown deepened, and he grinned in return.

"You shouldn't poke fun at people when your head is at perfect kicking height, you know," the boy told him with an edge of promise to his tone. He melted into a hiss as Lavi felt and probed around his ankle, wincing.

"And you shouldn't kick the guy fixing your injuries. Its a long way to limp to the next clinic."

"It's just a sprain," the kid defended indignantly.

"Actually I think its a fracture," Lavi corrected as he continued to test the limb, noticing how the other tried to hide his pain, though it wasn't quite as effective as he probably hoped. Lavi could almost _hear _his teeth grinding in his skull. When the boy almost jumped as he carefully rotated it, muffling a yell behind closed lips, he nodded. "Yeah, seems to me you have a break. Not a bad one, I don't think, but you'll definitely need to stay off it for a while."

"Lovely," the younger teen huffed in exasperation. "That git will never let me hear the end of it." He sighed, then returned his attention to Lavi as he went about grabbing something to set and wrap it. "Thank you, um...?"

"Lavi," the redhead offered up.

"Allen," the whitehead returned.

"Scottish name, huh?" Lavi noted. Allen looked as if he had no idea, his shrug further adding to the image. "I see you do the name justice," Lavi offered, giving him an awkward, one-eyed wink.

"What?"

"Allen means _handsome _in Scottish. It's fitting."

Allen merely stared at him, slightly flush, but otherwise didn't appear to know what to say to that.

They fell into silence as Lavi splinted and bandaged up his leg, even offering a few poppy seeds to dull the pain somewhat.

"So is your guardian coming back for you, or...?"

Allen sighed aloud. "Likely not."

"Want me to walk you home?" Lavi offered.

Allen gnawed his lip for a moment, looking evasive. "No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. I'd be grateful if you had a walking stick, though."

Lavi nodded, curious, but he figured the kid was probably edgy about it given his profession, though Lavi thought he looked quite a bit too young to be an assassin and much too polite.

"Thank you," Allen told him again when he returned with something to help him walk. "I'm afraid my temperamental Master didn't have the foresight to make sure either of us brought money to pay for your service, but I'll definitely make sure to come back and pay you when I can!"

"Don't worry about it," Lavi shrugged. "Just be careful you don't strain that ankle, otherwise you're going to owe me for another time."

Allen scowled, shifting his weight unhappily. "Don't even joke about that. Please."

Lavi merely laughed and saw Allen on his way, before returning to his seat behind the clinic counter. Still no sign of the doctor returning, which sadly meant he had to stick around until the guy did. Suddenly he found himself missing the other boy's company, groaning displeasure and boredom as he rested his head on the counter, willing something else to happen just so he would have something to do.

* * *

Allen returned the week after with payment as promised, still limping along, though he smiled through any pain he suffered and declined any extra services that were offered, mentioning something about being too short on coin to be able to afford any more help. Lavi didn't see him return afterwards, and soon enough, he was on to working with another doctor elsewhere. It hardly mattered though. By then, Allen was probably healed enough he didn't need to see a practitioner anyway.

When he was out walking the city, he kept a watchful eye out for the white-robed assassins, hoping that he might spy Allen again and they could talk, but he had very little success. Almost as soon as he saw a robed figure, they were gone again, and it was rare that he could see who each of them was before they were gone again.

There was nothing to be done for it. When his time wasn't so free to look about - which was most of the time - he busied his attention with both his bookmen and medicinal studies. Some five weeks after he and Allen first met, Bookman took them to Castra Praetoria where Borgia troops had set up camp, volunteering himself and his apprentice to treat their wounded.

Lavi knew by then without having to ask or be told that the real objective behind it was to gather accounts of the events surrounding the war so far for their records from the soldiers and military officials, and went about his task coaxing retellings from those that could spare the energy and time as he worked on cleaning and stitching and binding open wounds and setting breaks.

All day, he was surrounded by the moans of the dying, screaming from some who needed bones set back into place or have a limb removed because the damage was too great or a bad infection had set in, and the crying of the grief-stricken. The smell of blood was prominent, and the tents set up all around did nothing to muffle either the scent or sounds.

When the dark of night fell, he wandered off to clean himself up and shed his clothing, washing various bodily excrements from his flesh and scraping dried blood from under his nails, changing into fresh clothing. He hadn't stopped to eat and barely to drink all day, too busy with his tasks to even think much of it and hands too tainted from work to handle food anyway.

He was just thinking of dinner, walking between what few buildings stood within the stone walls of the small fortress, when he paused, craning his head. He thought he'd caught a glimpse of white furls ahead, just barely vanishing from view. He glanced around for anyone else, or the guards, but everyone was busy with their own tasks, or laid up in one of the tents somewhere.

Curious and suspicious, he jogged to where he'd first seen it, peering around the corner, and saw exactly what he had guessed: a figure cloaked in white robes with deadly weapons at their belt, heading deeper in.

"And just where are you going?" Lavi muttered to himself, tailing after at a distance and watching the figure ahead, ready to hide or run if the need arose.

He took advantage of structures to obstruct him from view as he followed, noticing that the person was being careful to check around and behind them before proceeding, not wanting to be seen or followed, which only made the redhead more intent on doing just that.

He saw them take the steps to the deepest point of the fort, then duck off to the side of it rather than keep going forward, as there were guards patrolling that section more vigilantly.

Lavi followed after, and he had _thought _he was being rather discreet and sneaky, but he was proven wrong as he rounded a wall and was pounced, yanked into a blind corner and a sharp blade finding rest against his throat. His heart was hammering hard in his chest, but he managed to hear the sharp intake of breath from the figure, who hesitated.

"Lavi?" It was only then that he realized the assassin was the very same he'd been hoping to see again, though certainly not under such circumstances. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same," Lavi replied, though his voice was a little strained, with the blade still uncomfortably close. He wasn't sure if Allen noticed or not, but all the same, the teen released him and stepped back, sheathing his weapon.

"I'm here on a matter of business," Allen stated crisply, keeping his voice hushed, though he glanced around carefully to be sure there were no guards that saw him.

"Would, um... _that_-" Lavi motioned to the blade at his wrist. "-be your business?"

Allen answered by way of omission as he glanced the redhead up and down, suspicious of him. "And what of you? Why are you here?"

"I was tending wounded soldiers on commission," he said, wary of the look Allen was giving him. "And then I saw you skulking about, and I grew curious to what you were doing here, acting so sneakily."

"It's nothing you need to worry yourself over," Allen assured with a smile that didn't quite reach all the way to his eyes. "You should go back to whatever you were doing before." He turned to continue on his way, but Lavi grasped his arm.

"Hey, hold on! What are you planning to do?"

"I told you, don't worry over it," Allen returned, shaking his arm free. He looked aside, and Lavi followed his gaze to where other similarly-dressed figures were dispatching the guards. "I didn't come alone." He blew out a breath, leveling serious eyes on the other. "You are very lucky not to have gotten a knife in the back, following me like you did. My friends are very... _thorough_, most days."

"Your assassin friends?" Lavi guessed carefully, noticing how Allen's eyes flicked to him in surprise.

"So you know about that..." Once again, that suspicion was back, and Lavi had a good idea as to why. "And you're sure curiosity is the only reason you tailed me?"

"Well, I may have been hoping to talk with you again," Lavi admitted slightly. "But I wasn't following to cause you harm, if that's what you think."

Allen opened his mouth to say something, but his attention was drawn by a signal from one of his fellow white-robed comrades.

"We can talk later," Allen told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Now, I am busy, and I can't delay any longer. You know the Colosseo? We will meet there - three days, at the high point of day - but for now, you need to get away from here." He paused, gaze looking troubled as he added, "I wouldn't want you being mistakenly blamed as having done something you haven't."

With that, Allen turned and dashed towards one of the buildings, scaling up it with well-practiced ease. Lavi decided it may be best after all that he make himself scarce for a while, knowing that the other had a point. He didn't need to be told of what was about to happen to know. The Assassins bore their name for a reason, and it wasn't his place to get involved in stopping it, so long as he himself wasn't under threat.

It wasn't more than maybe ten minutes when the alarm was raised that one of the military leaders and his guards were found slain, and he didn't see hide nor hair of any assassins escaping, though neither did he hear or see of any being captured or killed. Bookman was the only one he told of what had transpired, though there was one little detail he decided to withhold from his old mentor, and that was his arrangement to meet Allen in three days' time.

* * *

Just as Allen had told him, he went to the crumbling landmark known as the Colosseo, though he wasn't entirely sure _where _in the structure they were supposed to meet. He supposed it didn't matter. He would be hard to miss standing at its open center, most likely, so that's where he chose to wait.

He was milling about the steps in the center when he heard a shrill, long whistle, then another, the sound echoing off the stonework.

"Laviiii!"

He glanced up, eye scanning the structure, and then he finally spotted Allen, white-dressed form bouncing and waving his arms from the highest point of the Coliseum, which was little more than a ledge above a drop of a good 40 meters, at least, while an eagle lazily circled just above.

"Holy-" Lavi raised a hand to shield the sun from his eye and squinted.

Allen waved for him to come up, and he eyed the structure skeptically, but walked forward none the less. He travelled the entire loop looking for a ladder or stairs up, before Allen finally shouted down at him, "You're going to have to climb!"

That proved to be more of a challenge than he had first anticipated, though he had anticipated a lot already. He managed to reach just two levels below where Allen had taken a seat to watch with an amused look on his face, and gave the white-haired teen an unhappy, questioning look.

"Couldn't you just have met me at the bottom, like normal people?"

"Well I'm not _normal _people," Allen returned, smiling a little wider. "And I _may _have been a little more accommodating, had you not made fun of my height that one day."

"So this is payback?" Lavi questioned, side-eyeing him.

"Mm-hm," Allen nodded. It was his turn to look questioning as Lavi grinned at him.

"If its a war of revenge and pranks you want, you picked the wrong opponent, buddy."

"Well first, you'd have to reach me," Allen returned, raising a brow and appearing unconcerned. "And I can get down off this building a lot faster than you can get up it."

It really did take a while for the redhead to finally reach, and the very top that he and Allen were on was only about five-feet wide. He couldn't help but glance over the side and gulp at how high they were, even though he wasn't terribly scared of heights. One bad gust of wind and he could end up as a splatter of bloody pulp on the ground below.

Or one little push.

"I hope you didn't have me come crawling all the way up here just to shove me to my death or somethin'," Lavi told him, just to be sure.

Allen merely laughed. "No, nothing like that. If I'd wanted you dead, I would have taken care of you myself three days ago."

"Well that's reassuring," Lavi hummed as he sat down, feeling a little more at ease then. "I think..."

The view was truly one to write home about. Farmland stretched around the edges of the coliseum below and small houses, with old Roman structures no longer in regular use to the left, and the maze-like city beyond that, all he way to Castel Sant'Angelo and St. Peter's Basilica. To the right were staggered cliffs, a lake, and the towering aqueducts. On all sides, they could see the Aurelian Walls that bordered around the city and just how far they stretched, encompassing many miles.

The sun, by then, was setting, bathing the city in orange, while the sky itself was aflame with the brightest hues of gold.

"This is one of the best views in Rome, in my opinion," Allen said, flashing him a smile. "There are many others as well, of course, but I prefer this to the rest of them."

Lavi nodded.

"So what did you wish so badly to talk to me about?" Allen asked, glancing over at him inquisitively.

Lavi blinked. "Oh? Uh... nothing really... not in particular anyway. Just... to talk."

"Okay, but about what?" Allen chortled, drawing a leg up to his chest to rest his head on it. Lavi couldn't help but glance at him nervously at how precarious it looked, sitting on the edge of the Colosseo as they were.

"I guess I just want to get to know you," Lavi shrugged, leaning back and appreciating the view, both below and sitting next to him. "If that's okay, of course. Maybe we'll even wind up being... friends, ya know?"

"I wouldn't mind," Allen shrugged, offering him a soft smile, though he still seemed slightly uncertain as to why Lavi held such an interest in him. "Though my time might be a bit limited," he warned. "Things can get a bit hectic in my line of work."

"Same," Lavi piped, shrugging dismissively. "The old Panda likes to keep me busier than a whole hive of bees."

Allen tilted his head. "What's a panda?"

"It's a bear," Lavi grinned. "A big black and white bear that lives in the far East. They've got bulky white heads with black ears and spots 'round their eyes, big black legs and paws, with a white belly. Its what I call my old man most days."

"That's sort of an odd nickname for someone," Allen mused.

Lavi chuckled. "I'll draw you one some time, and when you meet him, you can see for yourself why I call 'im that!"

* * *

Allen did indeed see the resemblance when he met the man named Bookman, who wore big black spots around his eyes just like that of a panda, from what he had seen of Lavi's illustration. He was also quickly learning that the redhead made a habit out of trying to be annoying, and it was entirely on purpose. With him, it was his height. With the old man named Bookman, it was with the nickname.

That considered, he wasn't sure just how do-able being friends would turn out, but he gave it a chance, and he wasn't really disappointed.

Annoyances aside, Lavi was cheerful company, always wearing a grin on his face and acting as casually as if they'd known each other for years, throwing jokes around at every possible occasion - sometimes about other things, sometimes at Allen's own expense. It was a little strange to him at first, but nothing that was over-the-top, other than perhaps the redhead seemed almost a bit too eager to get together some days.

Sometimes they met at the piazza where Lavi's place was located, simply sitting at the fountain and talking as they watched people walk through the streets. Allen often dressed a bit more casually, rather than in his white robes that marked him as an assassin on those days, and he seemed to have one eye ever on the guards that walked the streets with a certain tense wariness.

Other times, they explored the city. It was rare that they stayed strictly on the ground when they did, running across rooftops and climbing buildings in typical Assassin fashion, and Allen used every opportunity he could to tease Lavi about his lacking acrobatic skills as payback for all the times before that the redhead would tease him about his height, or appetite, or piss-poor navigational skills, or any number of other things the redhead liked to poke fun at.

Allen had been around much of the city on his own time or on missions, but there were some places he hadn't explored much or corners he hadn't seen. Somehow it became their unspoken mission to do just that, and find interesting places or things to do.

They learned rather early on that the Pantheon building, with its polished marble floors and gold-plated interior walls, echoed like no other building in the whole city. Lavi became more delighted than Allen thought he rightly should have upon that discovery, and promptly made it his mission to publicly embarrass the both of them, bouncing his voice off the walls until he'd caused such a disturbance it was threatened the guard would be called on them both.

Allen lectured him long and hard about that one, but Lavi merely grinned and conspired for them to do it again, only the next time climbing the exterior of the building and staking out the circular opening at the very top of the building, where they couldn't be seen or reached by anyone. That only riled the guard and clergy even worse, and the whitehead swore that if it made his job more difficult, he would personally push Lavi through that hole himself and pray to the gods the fall would kill him.

That was one of their more irritating ventures - although Allen would be lying if he claimed he didn't get _some _entertainment off of the guards' irritation, considering those same people made his life a little harder than it needed to be most of the time already.

Another place they explored was the rooftop of the Palazzo Senatorio, which ended up becoming one of their most frequented spots on days when they simply wanted to sit and talk, with a view of the countryside and the Colosseo to their left and the city at their right, watching people walk and mill around the plaza and steps below like never ending herds of ants.

Lavi was a little more comfortable there than in front of his place given that the thought of his mentor noticing him and Allen together so often made him a touch nervous, and he could relax properly then when he didn't have to worry about the old man becoming suspicious.

Allen was too polite to say it, but he felt more at ease then too. Bookman was not a deliberately unpleasant person they way his Master was - acting out in public with a classlessness that made him cringe and a recklessness with money and women that caused the boy to want to bury his head in a pond and drown himself most days - but the old man unnerved him more than he would like, and he wasn't entirely sure why that was. Superficially, he'd have to say it was how... _cold _he seemed. It was hard to say how someone as warm and boisterous as Lavi could come from the upbringing of such a harsh and concrete grandfather.

Besides the churches, there wasn't much in the city to see and explore besides the places they had already been, since most of it was residential and shops, and they moved on to checking out the countryside.

While they were seeing the half-circle stonework of the Mercatidi Traiano, Lavi decided to forever ruin his appreciation of one of the white stone towers in the area that was still well-maintained by mentioning its likeness to a phallus. Allen argued otherwise, but it didn't matter. He would never look at it from then on without thinking of Lavi's words, which both flustered and annoyed him, made worse by the fact that Lavi could guess the exact moments when he recalled it and used it as another means to tease him by.

If nothing else, it gave him a justified excuse to kick the redhead in the shin a good dozen or so times.

They met like that off and on for two months before there was a lull, neither seeming to be available at the right times to catch each other. Allen became swamped with debt collectors left and right that came knocking, demanding to be paid for everything his Master owed, thanks to his irresponsible spending habits and some of the company he kept. Some were so bold as to send entire groups of highwaymen or hired thugs, making everything tense and causing a stir of worry, because when someone needed an assassin to kill an Assassin, they called upon the Templars, and that was the last kind of trouble any of them needed.

When that wasn't taking up their time, and he tried to meet with Lavi, he found the redhead busy, not with his medicinal studies but books and writing with his grandfather. Allen wasn't sure what he actually did when it came to those books, but he knew Lavi could read and write and did so frequently, a skill that was usually reserved to only officials of high rank and people of the Church. Most common folk had neither the time nor energy to even learn. Allen knew he certainly hadn't.

They didn't see each other, outside of the few spoken lines that could be easily chalked up to always be _I'm too busy, sorry, _for an entire month, and Allen hadn't realized beforehand just how quiet things were without the redhead and his loud mouth around, on the few instances where things calmed down and he was finally free to think of anything other than pacifying his Master's loan sharks.

Neither of them delayed at all when they were finally free of their tasks(Well... Lavi was free from his, at least, though Allen had long ago given up of ever being free from Cross' never ending debts) and obtained a pair of horses, tearing out across the countryside well away from the city and all of their own problems that went along with it. They ended up at an old ruin where the aqueduct in the Campagna district emptied into a square pool, which Lavi leaned over to look at from above as if worryingly contemplating jumping in.

"I'm not going swimming in there, if that's what you're thinking," Allen told him. "We might not be able to get back out."

Lavi shrugged as if he didn't care either way. "Well maybe then my old man'll never find me at the bottom."

Allen raised a brow. "Drowning yourself isn't the solution to your problems, Lavi," he stated, before adding in the utmost seriousness, "Trust me, I've had a lot of time to think about doing just that myself."

"Well I didn't _say_ drown myself," Lavi laughed with a little too much mirth.

"You're not saying now that you weren't thinking of it," Allen pointed out in return. "Anyway, if you want to go swimming, I know much better places for it." He grabbed Lavi by the arm - just in case - and tugged him along back to their horses. "Come on."

They rode to the lake just a little northeast of the Colosseo and spent the rest of their day there, distracting themselves from each of their troubles with the other's company, talking and swimming and then laying out in the sun on the grass to dry. When dusk neared and they were heading back to the city and their residences, Allen thought to ask Lavi about reading to him the next time they met. The redhead was surprised, but easily agreed.

The next time they met up again was at the Colosseo, where Lavi put on his best reading performance he could muster, making a total ass of himself while doing it, so that Allen could laugh whole-heartedly at his expense. Allen didn't hesitate to ask Lavi to read to him again whenever they had the chance, and Lavi never refused.

It was while they were exploring Terme di Traiano just to the edge of the Colosseo that they discovered something interesting, a metal hatch with a wolf's head leading underground. They spent a good half hour debating what to do and verbally poking at each other's pride about the other being too cowardly to go down there before they actually decided to explore what might lay beneath the upper stonework.

What they found was an entire network of human-crafted ruins, like an entire underground city beneath Rome, with crumbling pillars and walkways that required a lot of climbing and leaping to navigate. Considering the way in had basically been a big slide of stone angling down, there didn't appear to be an easy way back up, except to traverse further into the ruins. The two of them spent much of the way cursing the other as being the reason they were down there, neither willing to take responsibility for it even though they'd both initially pressured each other into it in the first place.

In the lower levels they found already-lit braziers and glanced unfriendly looking guys dressed in wolf-skins, mutually agreeing that it was probably better they _don't _draw attention and stay hidden as there was no telling just what said people might do to them, speculating everything from cultists to cannibals to werewolves, and they were a long way from anyone hearing them yell for help if things got ugly.

After having to climb and leap over flaming floors, cavernous abysses, navigating maze-like tunnels, and finding skeletons chained up on pillars like trophies to reach the exit - with Lavi having a harder time of the physical aspect than Allen did - they both agreed to no more such adventures for a long time to come, lest one of such places become a tomb for them.

Having made it out alive, they were fully free to keep on trying to blame the other for having ended up with such trouble in the first place, including the fact that they had no idea what part of the city they were in after crawling out of the ground, and thus had to go and track down their horses on foot, on top of having been scared shitless as they were.

Things like that continued between them for weeks, and then months. Harassing the guards around the city for a cheap laugh, whether it be blazing past them on the rooftops or shouting into the Pantheon, became routine. Meeting at monuments or old ruins simply to explore or to have a place away from everything else so that they could talk freely about this or that. Going swimming in the lake near the Colosseo or in the Tiber River. Racing each other across the fields and through town on horseback. Pranks and verbal banter were not uncommon, sometimes even physical sparring matches or wrestling over something petty and in jest. Lavi even tagged along to some of Allen's gambling establishments where he continually tried to make at least a small dent in his Master's infamous debts.

Whenever Allen injured himself on a mission, or even simply fell ill, Lavi jumped at the chance to make him feel better any way he could, which usually involved both his medicinal knowledge and reading something aloud theatrically as entertainment.

Days when they weren't together doing something seemed dull, even when they were busy, and they jumped at the chance of free-time to simply hang out. They each had other connections, other people they talked to and hung out with, certainly, but they were most eager to see each other.

Their friendship was one that simply fell into place naturally. Lavi could hardly even remember how he'd been before Allen. More accurately, he never gave it much conscious thought, because things were going well and he was _happy_. His studies with the doctor's kept him further away from the battlefields than previous records, with the exception of treating the returning wounded, and their stability of staying in one place so much longer than usual allowed him the opportunity to pursue getting to know Allen a little more every day.

And to top it off, Allen was one of the more pleasant people Lavi had ever met.

Things were great, and then they changed, abruptly and uncomfortably.

It was just an accident that wasn't really supposed to happen. Not so much an accident in that there had been no control over, but more that he knew he had _royally _fucked up and wished sorely that he had the power to turn back time if only just by five minutes.

They had met at the Colloseo, just like many other times before, and he managed to rile Allen enough to get the lad to start chasing him. The coliseum, of course, had many structures to run through and hide behind or weave around in and turn it into a game of hide-and-seek/tag. He'd had a difficult time keeping himself from laughing out loud when he heard Allen yelling and cursing for him to come out into the open, rather than run and hide like a coward.

In his defense, he _did _come out of hiding. For nothing other than to instill shock for pure comedic value, he'd whirled a corner and pecked him on the lips. Certainly not an actual kiss, just a peck. He might as well have head-butted the other, and it would have been basically the same thing, or so he rationalized in the moment of actually doing it. That was not how things went perceived _at. all._

It wasn't alienation that he was met with. Oh no. Not by a long shot.

He glanced the frozen look of shock and went running off, laughing shamelessly so that his voice echoed off the surrounding structures, waiting for Allen to start _screaming _obscenities and threaten to murder him for such a stunt. There was no such thing, only silence that followed his back. He glanced around for the other, and for a few minutes he thought Allen must have simply up and left, suddenly feeling a sense of panic and that he'd messed things up _badly._

Allen soon erased _that _fear when he ambushed him, in much the same way, springing around a corner and shoving him to a wall and turning the tables. His 'peck' on the lips though was much more proper, earning a kiss-muffled yelp of surprise from Lavi, who was too shocked by the action to push him off. Allen was grinning at him like the devil himself when he pulled away, lightly smacking both of Lavi's cheeks between his palms.

"If that's all you have to try and one-up me, then you have a lot to learn," the pale youth told him cheekily. He laughed much like the redhead had earlier when Lavi only continued to stare and babble startled nonsense at the response his little prank had received.

It took far too long for Lavi to recover enough to start making sense. "You-... you know that wasn't...?"

Allen tilted his head innocently in question. "Seemed to me that it was."

"I just did it as a joke," Lavi defended a bit hastily. "I was just... goin' for a reaction, y'know?"

"Well you got one," Allen replied. "Though perhaps you should have given a bit more thought to _what kind _of reaction." He had a point there. Some days Lavi forgot just whose apprentice Allen was and the man's influences on him. "Are you saying you don't like guys?" Allen asked with such a straight face it was borderline painful to look at.

"Not, um-..." Lavi's voice cracked a few octaves too high and he paused to clear his throat, a little too flustered for his liking. "...not most days..."

"Only most days?" Allen raised a brow. It was no mystery that Lavi definitely _did _like girls. At least certain ones. His occasional outbursts when he saw one that was _`his type` _were proof enough of that. He had never given it much thought though that Lavi might have a second preference besides that, but obviously Lavi had not given him the same consideration either. "Do you like me?"

Lavi gnawed his lip, hesitation already answering for him. "M-maybe... a little..."

* * *

And that, like everything else, fell into place as if it was simply meant to be all along.

That wasn't to say it didn't come with some anxiety first, though.

Allen was the pure epitome of nonjudgmental acceptance, shrugging it off. It was no big deal to him, and he made it clear he would respect whatever Lavi wanted or didn't want out of it. The redhead had been thinking he knew a lot of the other in the months they'd known each other, but he was starting to second-guess that he truthfully knew anything at all about Allen Walker.

They didn't pursue another kiss, at least not that day. Allen seemed content to wait for Lavi to think over and decide what he wanted to do with that newfound knowledge, and Lavi certainly needed some time alone to his thoughts afterwards before coming to a decision was even an option.

He'd screwed things up bad. Allen had no way of knowing just _how _bad, so he certainly didn't blame the other, and in Christian-dominated Rome, he didn't slight the other for not having mentioned his preferences earlier on either.

Allen didn't know, but even being friends as they were, with Lavi actually _looking forward _to seeing him all the time, was taboo for him. The rules of his Clan - of the Bookmen - were clear and concise. No emotional attachments. Nothing that could lead to bias. That was an absolute.

His preferences weren't restricted to any one sex. He had seen and met quite a number of girls he liked and felt attracted to in some way, most certainly. Relationships with women carried an extra risk than did ones with men, though. Or a _few_ extra risks, depending on who they were.

Pregnancy in and of itself was one such risk. The expectation of marriage by the family of many girls was another. Then there was the social stigmas that went along with girls whose "purity" was taken by a man who was not committed to her, and he didn't want to be responsible for such a thing.

And when it came to prostitutes, nothing could be more of a turn-off to him than paying for meaningless sex with women who already put themselves in all manners of different risk for men's physical pleasures and unhealthy desires, even downright abuse. Most of which they truthfully wanted nothing to do with, and did so only to survive. He already saw enough ugliness in the world without adding to it himself. It was bad enough, being forbidden to do anything but watch atrocities unfold as if he were simply watching gruesome plays with actors, rather than real, suffering people.

Funnily enough, Lavi wanted nothing less than a faithful, meaningful relation if ever he were to have one at all, yet that was the one thing that was absolutely forbidden to him by the rules of his Clan.

It was so that their records stayed untainted by personal feelings, of favor or resentment for any one side, to get only pure fact. They almost never discussed their given duties to their own factions. Lavi didn't question the details of the missions Allen undertook, and Allen didn't question him about his Bookmen duties. Lavi knew that Allen killed Templars and their associates for a living, and what Allen knew of Lavi was that he was basically an apprentice scholar. Beyond that, they didn't talk of it, spent their time together avoiding those parts of their lives in favor of easy laughs and relaxation, or in other times, friendly competition.

He was realizing that, secretly, he had _always _had somewhat of an attraction to Allen, but some part of him had rationalized that getting close to him was safe territory from that sort of thing for sharing the same gender, and he'd turned out to be wrong on that presumption.

So really, how could Allen know about just how huge of a fuck-up he'd created?

He spent a good few days pondering over it and what he should do, over the things he should say or not say the next time he saw Allen, who simply told him that he'd be waiting at the Colosseo each day just before sunset for when Lavi was ready to address the matter properly, since it had become an almost unspoken rule to avoid the redhead's living quarters and his old man wherever possible.

When he finally worked up the nerve, almost a week afterwards, he went there just as agreed to meet up with Allen. By then, he knew the route up the structure, had memorized and practiced it. He certainly wasn't as nimble with climbing as Allen, but his attempts were no longer laughable, and Allen had stopped teasing him about his inferior skill in it.

Allen merely regarded him from where he sat at the very top of the Colosseo, saying nothing, simply waiting for Lavi to join him and speak, patience incarnate.

Normally speaking came easy and automatic to him, saying whatever came to mind, even when it was tactless or inappropriate at times. Shamelessly so, even. It wasn't that easy this time. He felt choked up and unusually tense. Glancing at Allen and how at-ease he seemed though helped him to settle his own anxiety somewhat, as did the scenic view that never grew old and tired to his eye.

"Allen, there's, um... something I have to tell you..." he began carefully, licking his lower lip in thought.

Allen only nodded for him to continue, trying not to look too expectant.

"It-... it isn't that I don't like you or anything, please don't think that," Lavi offered, becoming a little more frantic with his words than he first intended, pausing to collect himself and staring down at his feet and the drop below. Suddenly pushing himself off seemed like it would be a lot less painful, but he violently shoved the thought aside and continued to talk none the less. "Since I first saw you, I think... that I liked you, but... I just... I have responsibilities, and I wouldn't want to bring you trouble. I just can't-..."

He stopped again, glancing up, and suddenly he found he couldn't muster the will to speak anymore. He could barely even breathe.

The setting sun cast his white hair and clothing aglow in hues of gold and orange, the scar over his eye almost seeming to blaze against his fair skin, while shadows accentuated every delicate curve and laugh line of his soft, slightly effeminate face, and he could just make out the slope of lean muscle in the other's frame from all of the constant exercise his work put him through daily, which he had already gotten a good taste of the strength of on a few instances where they'd roughhoused and sparred.

And then the boy _smiled _at him, nothing but calm understanding and reassurance in those steel-colored eyes.

In short, he was everything Lavi would describe as an angel sent down from the heavens themselves. A rather amusing irony, he reflected, considering neither of them could say they were devout believers in religion of any kind.

Besides, he was sure it would have been blasphemous to look upon an angel and have all the blood leave his face to betray him by finding refuge unwantedly southward. If Allen was an angel, then there was a thunderbolt coming to smite him _and_ his hormones.

"So you don't like me in that way?" Allen questioned directly, seeming to get far too much amusement out of Lavi's squeamishness.

"I-I didn't say _that_... necessarily..." Lavi squeaked out, massaging he back of his neck awkwardly.

"But even so, you don't want us to be together," Allen hummed neutrally.

Lavi bit his own lip and leaned closer, cupping the opposite side of Allen's face to guide their lips together. It was a little more than just a peck like the last time, though he was still a bit tentative and unsure about it. Allen didn't pull away or reject him, kissing him back sweetly.

"I-... want to try," Lavi finally managed to breathe out, resting his face against Allen's shoulder. The hand that reached up and combed through his hair was comforting, and he was sure he felt Allen smile against the top of his skull.

"Then we'll see where it goes."

* * *

Nothing much changed after that. Lavi and Allen still met up regularly, when their schedules allowed, no more frequently than before. They still explored all over Rome, trying to find every interesting nook and cranny, irritating guards whenever they could get away with it, and spending some days or evenings talking, usually atop the coliseum or the rooftop of the Palazzo Senatorio. Most of the time they had no particular destination in mind when they left, simply wandering about until they found something of that day's interest.

The only real, drastic change was the kisses they stole when they could find a bit of privacy, either in a ruin hardly anyone else visited or around a blind alley here or there.

Allen also learned rather quickly that Lavi was a cuddler. What he took the most pleasure in wasn't so much the kisses they shared as the warmth of contact. Nothing terribly extreme or perverse. It was the little things, like fingers in his hair, or on his back. Of hearing the beat of Allen's chest in his ear, or of the other's face against the crook of his neck where he could feel Allen's breath against his skin. Occasionally he even hooked their fingers in passing for the briefest of seconds when no one was watching or they walked a part of the street that was unoccupied, almost like a flirtatious, silent tease.

For someone who boasted such like for the flashy and the loud and obnoxious and in-your-face sort of things, his greatest appreciation when it came to their relationship were the subtleties. He never pressed to have anything more than their more innocent caresses and kisses that were sometimes passionate and needy but most of the time were tender and careful and perhaps even a small touch fearful of crossing some boundary that he shouldn't, seeming as if he was always silently asking permission and reassurance in every little carefully thought action, without wanting to annoy Allen with _actually _vocalizing as such constantly.

Allen found it somewhat humorous.

When they weren't sharing such moments of intimacy, Lavi was the same old as he always was, loud and deliberately annoying and always seeking to push buttons in some way or another with the tenacious persistency of a fox much too clever for its own good, then scampering away to a safe distance to hide like a rabbit to its bolt hole as soon as his poking and prodding gave rise to potential threat, all the while laughing his head off.

Yet when they found the time and places to explore their more secret relationship, he was a docile, timid, sensitive lover, keenly receptive to every signal Allen gave him no matter how slight.

He was quick to cease and apologize the second Allen began to feel even a hint of irritation or discomfort that went beyond their usual banter. He easily picked up on the days where Allen was having a rough time, and did everything in his power to make it better, and he got very good at knowing what sort of things would cheer him up at what times, whether it be a wild dash on horseback from one corner of the countryside to another, or pleasant food, or reading, or simply laying out somewhere quiet and isolated to talk or nap or enjoying each other's mere presence.

One barrier they didn't cross was sex. Never did they get quite so heated that they recklessly charged into the act, nor did Lavi pressure or even ask for it. If for no other reason than his experiences watching his womanizing Master, Cross, Allen was glad for that. He wasn't sure how he'd have been able to handle it if Lavi had turned out to be the pushy or manipulative coercive type, but likely it would have gone badly. That didn't mean he didn't suspect Lavi might want to at some point, he simply wasn't sure when it would actually come up.

He left the subject alone, though. They were both content with what they already had in each other, and there was no point in fouling their relationship any by breaching a topic neither felt ready for anyway. Allen would wait and they would address it properly when Lavi finally worked up his comfort level and nerve for it, and if he never did, then that was just as well.

Almost a year since they first met, and about a month and a half into their exploratory romantic relationship, they rode out to the far southern side of Rome, to the hilltop town near the Porta Asinaria gate. Just across from it was a low plateau, with walls too steep for even the most skilled assassin to scale, and the only path being a bridge with a large gap at its center no man could leap without a horse, with just enough old building ruins on the other side to obstruct them from view.

The perfect place to be all alone, though it wasn't for the sake of pleasantry and mischief. Lavi had an announcement that was sure to be upsetting.

"Gramps is takin' us out of town for some business," he told Allen, watching with an inward wince as Allen's face fell. "An' we're going to be gone for a while."

"How long?"

"A month," Lavi answered, though he sounded like he was only guessing. Allen could see a small indent appear in his one cheek, and knew the redhead was gnawing the inside of it instead of his lip, as he always did when he didn't want to show exactly how uncertain he was. Allen could feel the smooth spots from chewing when they kissed and knew when Lavi had been doing it. Lavi didn't like to be unsure, but he hated to appear unconfident in his knowledge even more than that. "Maybe two?"

"You don't know," Allen stated more than asked, and Lavi looked somewhat guilty.

"I don't... but we shouldn't be gone long," he promised. "We'll be back. If there's... um... anything you wanted to do or say, before I have to go, now would be the time."

Allen eyed Lavi with a grim kind of scrutiny, trying to read Lavi's expression, but it was carefully guarded.

"Are you going somewhere dangerous?"

"No." His tone was a little too crisp, too tense, and Allen knew he was lying.

"Don't lie to me, Lavi," he told him sharply. "Where are you going?"

"I can't say," Lavi muttered, looking evasive. "But I promise, nothing's gonna happen. I'll be back."

Allen pursed his lips unhappily, before filling them with Lavi's own, kissing him long and hard. "You had better keep that promise, and you had better settle my fears with letters, too!"

"I'll try," Lavi replied, "but I can't promise that I'll be somewhere I can send any from."

* * *

Allen waited, and there were no letters. No couriers bringing messages. A week went by, and then another. He didn't expect anything then.

They crawled into a third week, and then a full month. Still nothing.

He became worried, certainly, but he tried to rid himself of the insidious thoughts that swirled through his head when he had too few other things to focus on and worry over, usually in the form of debt collectors and his Master, or missions to get rid of Templars and their sworn allies, or take care of some brutes that were causing strife to the underserving public.

Besides the doctors themselves around town that he knew Lavi had worked with, who were all but useless to finding out how he could reach the other or send him a message, he had no idea who else to ask. They had kept their time together and their lives the rest of the time separate. Allen had done it to avoid making the redhead a potential target. He didn't know why Lavi had done the same, but he imagined there was a good reason.

Allen, however, didn't like to be left out of the loop where his comrades might be in danger, and Lavi's words and behavior before he left had deeply worried the teen over where he might be and what sort of harm he might fall under.

Another month went by, and still no word. It began to drive him crazy with concern. He knew it only caused him unnecessary strain, but he couldn't help fearing the worst. By then, many of his fellow assassins knew of Lavi and had seen them together when they were in public, though Allen was careful about being caught in private, partially because he wasn't sure how Cross might take it. As unpleasant as he could be, even appearing downright negligent when it came to his apprentice, he could actually be quite explosively protective under the right circumstances.

He bade the others keep an eye and ear out, to tell him if they heard or saw anything.

Finally, after two months and another week and a half of pure torture, he got word. He wasted not a second to go see Lavi as soon as he found out where, which was simply _the same place we last saw each other:_ The isolated plateau with the broken bridge. He must have earned a small bounty knocking over a handful of guards, tearing up two separate farm fields, and nearly running over someone's dog from the back of his horse in his haste to reach the place where Lavi had set their rendezvous.

"_Stronzo!" _Allen cursed as soon as he found his lover, leaping down from his horse and marching up to him, fuming. "Do you have any conceivable idea exactly how much grief you have caused me?!" He shoved Lavi against the wall, none too gentle, and captured his lips before the other could get a word in, passionate and desperate and unforgiving.

"I missed you too," Lavi chuckled when he was finally free to speak again.

"If you ever do that to me again, I will throw you hog-tied into the Tiber river attached to an anchor!" Allen promised him darkly.

"You're cute when you threaten like that," Lavi laughed, kissing him in return.

Allen gave him a vindictive bite on the lip, just to get his point across further that he was still pissed, but he did nothing to deny the redhead's attentions or push him away, mouthing and nipping and tongue-wrestling for dominance until they could hardly breathe. He was aware of a foreign bulge and rolled his hips, but a hand against his stomach stopped him.

"Hang on, 'sprout," Lavi hummed, using one of a few affectionate nicknames he'd developed since getting to know Allen, though _sprout _was one of his more favored ones, and one of Allen's more hated. "I'm happy to see you, but not _that _happy." Lavi flushed slightly when he saw the stung expression that crossed the other's face, hastily correcting himself. "I mean, I'm really super happy to see you! I just... don't think this is a good time for that..."

Allen was coming down off his anger by then, and only now was he noticing that something about Lavi was... _off_. That he had a wall up. There was almost a certain _coldness _about him. Not so much that he was harsh or abrasive, but certainly withdrawn and more weary than Allen remembered him being. His brows furrowed in concern, and he found himself reaching out to caress the redhead's face with his palm. He could almost swear he felt a slight flinch, though it was subtle enough he couldn't actually see the action. He almost wondered if he'd imagined it.

"Lavi... are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright," Lavi answered immediately, offering up a smile, but it was hollow. Nothing more than a mask, an art which Allen knew well and practiced himself regularly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't seem like it," Allen returned thoughtfully. "Where did you go?"

"Cephalonia," Lavi told him. When the lad gave him a confused look, he further elaborated, "It's an island off of Greece."

Allen raised his brows. "You left not only the city, but the entire country?"

"Well, there was a siege," Lavi slipped, "and-..."

"A _siege_?" Allen's brows lifted higher, his eyes widened. He took his while to look Lavi up and down properly, almost as if expecting some missing limb or blatant injury he'd somehow missed before. "What siege?"

Lavi was tight-lipped, and Allen found his temper rising slightly.

"_What. Siege?_" Allen repeated. He recalled how the redhead had refused to talk to him about the details before, that Lavi appeared to have known it was going to happen. Suddenly he felt ill with suspicion. "Why were you there? Lavi... please... tell me you aren't _one of them_."

The redhead blinked, looking both startled and confused. "One of who?"

"Templars," Allen elaborated, reflexively clenching and unclenching his hands with nervous energy. He didn't think that was it, he _hoped _it wasn't, but he needed to be sure.

Lavi's eye widened, and then he laughed, a little more genuine this time. "What? Whatever gave you that idea?" Allen relaxed slightly, but he couldn't help worrying. "Of course I'm not."

"Then why were you there?" Allen asked.

Lavi hesitated, and Allen could see a moment of consideration first. "How much do you know about bookmen?" he asked finally.

"Not much more than you've told me," Allen admitted, confusion returned. "Just that they're the scholarly sort."

"Yes and no," Lavi said, expression still detached and guarded. "Technically we _are _scholars, but much of what we do involves being directly at battles and wars to make record of it, and we have a very vast information network," he explained, clearly trying to ease Allen's fears. "Gramps got a tip about how preparations were being made for the siege and we went to witness it and write down the events, so the history isn't lost and forgotten."

"So you went to where you knew there was going to be a siege just for that?" And Lavi had the nerve to call _him _reckless other days?!

Lavi shrugged, not appearing to think much of it. "That's what bookmen do. Its what I've done since I was young. Its no different than any other time."

"Why haven't you told me before?" Allen demanded, trying to keep his temper steady. Really though, Lavi could have been _killed_, and never once returned. Had he ever even thought of that?

Lavi shrugged again, avoidant. "I didn't have any reason to." Allen frowned at him. "Besides, it wasn't that dangerous," he added with a laugh. "We weren't right at the center of the fighting or anything."

"Good," Allen quipped, a hint of humor entering his voice. "Because I've seen how you fight."

"Ouch, that was harsh," Lavi stated bluntly, though Allen could see a slight upward twitch at the corners of his lips.

Allen blew out a breath and grasped the redhead by the hand, tugging him along to where they could sit comfortably. "Come. It's been too long since we've talked."

They settled in the grass, and Lavi was quick to seek out contact, nestling against him. They talked, but Lavi was still unusually reserved. He talked about the aforementioned siege on the Castle of St. George, which had been in the hands of the Ottoman for the past 30 years or so, until just some weeks earlier, when the Spanish and Venetian armies stormed the place and claimed it for the benefit of Italy. Lavi was vague on the details, and it quickly became apparent he didn't wish to speak much of it.

They moved on to other topics instead. Allen recounted what he'd been up to, though it didn't deviate much from what he was doing most times, juggling assassin missions with settling Cross' massive debts with down-time. Then it moved on to talking of what they should do together in the following days and which corners of the city they had yet to explore, and then onto food after that, at which point they both decided they were hungry and it would be best to go and get something to eat.

After a few days, Lavi returned to his old self, whatever had troubled him before forgotten. They returned to their usual routine, exploring interesting spots, hanging out in a few of their choice places away from people at other times, causing mischief when they could with Lavi almost always leading the charge. Every so often, Lavi would have to leave town with Bookman over matters he refused to explain fully. Allen worried each time, but Lavi always returned and with little or no injury to stress over, and none of those times were as long as the first. Allen grew used to it before long, though the frequency of their going away increased, little by little.

The loneliness was felt on both their ends during those times, but it simply made the times they were together again more meaningful.

They did finally breach the topic of sex on a few occasions. Usually Allen was the first to bring it up, as Lavi seemed uncertain, perhaps he would even go so far as to say somewhat _fearful_, of it. The redhead assured him that it wasn't because of Allen or anything he had done, nor was it because of anyone else, but he simply didn't feel bold enough to take things that far "yet".

Allen had no qualms about it, and their discussions didn't change their current relations at all, that he could tell, though Allen didn't fail to catch the somewhat guilty looks Lavi bore or his apologies over it. Allen spent the tail end of more than one of those discussions assuring the other that it _really was _completely alright and he didn't expect anything of the sort until the junior bookman was good and ready for it, and that he wouldn't feel any slight if they never did it either.

Lavi knew, too, that Allen was honest in saying so. He had certain boundaries Lavi never dared cross and his own set of rules when it came to such relationships, all of which he'd forged on account of seeing the way his Master lived life and womanized and manipulated to get what he wanted. Allen forgave teasing and honest accidents, but he had not a lick of tolerance for anyone who blatantly broke his rules or stepped over the boundaries he set. Lavi had a healthy enough respect for that.

What he didn't speak of, though, were his own unspoken rules. More specifically, the rules of the Bookmen. It wasn't that he _couldn't _have sex. It wasn't even forbidden to him. Sex could be an invaluable tool at times, especially when it came to information.

As far as the Clan would be concerned though, he'd done something much, much worse. Sex wasn't taboo, but a relationship certainly was, and he was already treading thin ice.

Allen was good at pretending they were nothing more than friends in public. Very good at it.

He was, however, in a certain sense, fragile. His love for the people close to him was one of his greatest weaknesses.

Lavi's guilt didn't come out of having been unfaithful or done anything of that sort. It was solely because of his bookmen ties, knowing that what they had together was a fleeting thing at best. After they were done in Italy, they would simply leave. The persona he'd taken on as _`Lavi` _would simply cease to exist as he took on a new name for their next record, and then another, and eventually he would simply be Bookman. Just like his mentor, and Bookman's mentor before that, and the one before that.

Just one more number in a single entity with a single name: Bookmen.

And when he left, it would hurt Allen. His return from Cephalonia and Allen's worry for him had only further driven that point home, like a sword through his chest.

He tried not to think too hard on it, but it ate at him, in every little affectionate action no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, gnawing at his conscience.

He wanted more with Allen. He _did_. The Clan would not let him go so easily though, and pursuing deeper things with Allen, disregarding that until the time came when he would have to go and never look back, was something much worse than simply selfish.

He tried many times to work up the nerve to talk about it, to explain to Allen what would eventually have to happen, but when the times came, he couldn't. He seized up, and avoiding it to enjoy what finite time they had, to act like he had not a care in the world and coax Allen into genuinely smiling and laughing with him was much easier, doing his all to ignore the little voice in his head that whispered at him what a lowly coward he was for it.

And then, that time finally came. Two years into knowing Allen, and a little more than one since they had started seeing each other as more than that. Bookman gave him a week of warning, and while he was surprised they had not left much sooner, he was devastated. Suddenly leaving Allen behind wasn't just a passing thought of _eventually_. It was reality and it was coming up fast.

Allen was busy and unavailable for the first two days of that week, and Lavi didn't sleep a wink the entire time, too wound up with anxiety. He finally managed to pass out for a while on the third day, but his sleep was fitful at best, and he looked like Hell. He took a horse and rode out through the country, for once not inviting Allen along.

He needed to be by himself with his thoughts, to try and figure out what to do. He had no destination in mind, aimlessly racing across the fields. He thought of stopping at the Colosseo, but he was afraid of possibly running into Allen there, as it was one of their most frequent meeting places, unsure he could hold himself together if he did.

Eventually he ended up at the Termi di Caracalla - the public baths of Rome - and decided he should stop considering his horse was tired and sweating by then and needed rest. For a while, he merely sat thinking, staring off at nothing.

"You look like someone whose favorite cat was backed over by a brick wagon," a voice interrupted his thoughts, making him glance up in surprise at Allen. He hadn't even seen the guy approach him. Allen clearly saw the question in his eyes, and nodded over to the horse grazing a short ways away. "Normally you invite me whenever you go tearing across the countryside, and usually you look like you're having a lot more fun. Did something happen?"

Lavi sighed as Allen took a seat next to him.

"Gramps sort of said something that put me in a bad mood," Lavi supplied.

Allen nodded understanding, staring at him in wait. "What did he say?"

"He-" Lavi stopped, pursing his lips, willing the words to come. He needed to tell Allen. He _deserved _to know. But he couldn't say it. "Never mind, its not that important. So what are you doing here?"

"Trying to find out why my friend looks like someone ran over his favorite cat," Allen supplied mirthfully.

Lavi smirked. "I don't even have a cat."

"You know what I mean," Allen huffed, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. "Well... while we're already here, we might as well enjoy the bath, right?" he suggested after a moment.

Lavi nodded, thinking that as good of a change of topic as any.

They spent a good few hours relaxing in the water, talking of this or that, strictly sticking to light topics, all the while Lavi trying to work up his nerve to break the news. It didn't help that his overactive mind kept assaulting him with thoughts of how he was going to end up hurting Allen, seeing his expressions in his mind and demanding once again _why did you never tell me of this sooner?_

He didn't manage it, but he still had three more days.

The day after that didn't go any better with trying to bring it up. The day after that, he got an idea on how he might bring it about. He found another one of those wolf-head metal hatches, like the one that had taken them to those underground ruins before - Lairs of Romulus, Bookman had told him - with full intent to go exploring it. Likely it wasn't the safest thing he could have done, but he was hoping maybe a little risk would put his cowardice to just _speak a few god damn words _into better perspective. Kill his cowardice with some _real _potential danger.

It was stupid and reckless. He knew that full well. He didn't much care. It wasn't so much his intent to drag Allen into it with him, but the white-haired lad tagged along all the same and they ended up traversing another underground network together, Allen all the while cursing Lavi's sudden recklessness.

In the end, that proved nothing more than a temporary distraction. He got up to the point of saying _I have something to tell you_, then he chickened out before he could actually get around to saying it.

"Why don't you and me do something nice tomorrow?" he suggested instead, smiling to cover his internal screaming at himself to stop avoiding it. To _just do it_.

Allen raised a brow. He certainly hadn't failed to notice that something was off, but he had no way of knowing just what it was. "What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is its been a few years we've known each other and we haven't done anything like it before! Nothin' super special, you know? Like an... an anniversary!"

"Uh huh..." Allen said slowly, with a hint of suspicion in the way he turned his head.

"We'll splurge on some really good food, maybe go see the theatre if anything's going on there, and then we can hang out on the rooftops and... and... I dunno, maybe go yell into the Pantheon building, irritate a few guards and stuffy priests or something!"

Allen smirked. "I'd think you'd have tired of that by now."

"Not a chance!" Lavi declared.

"I'll have you know the guards have it out for me now more than ever since we started doing that," Allen told him. "And I _did _promise you I'd shove you down that hole if that happened."

"Try it then," Lavi challenged. "As if you could really do it, shorty!"

Allen's eye ticked in annoyance. "You'll be much shorter than me after the fall squishes you. I'll _personally _make sure of it."

"Promises, promises~"

* * *

And so that was what they ended up doing.

They arranged to meet just before noon time, where Lavi brought them lunch, which he had gotten up early to make. It wasn't much food, but enough to hold them over, and he promised there would be more later on. They spent much of their day harassing and pissing off the guards, then evading them, and pissing off more once they were in the clear, a game which they had become very proficient at.

At later mid-day, they called it quits, and went to the Colosseo. As luck would have it, there was a play going on. It was private, only for those of high status, but sneaking in wasn't difficult when they'd had a lot of practice scaling up and down the structure many times over. They sat near the top, overlooking the structure and unpacking the food Lavi had picked up just before heading there as they watched and idly whispered to each other.

When Allen bit into his food, he almost melted next to Lavi, his face one of utter bliss.

"This is really good," he admired. It was certainly one of the better dishes he had ever had. "What is it?"

"Venison," Lavi told him with a growing grin.

Allen sputtered, almost choking on his food, and smacked a fist into his chest to avoid such outcome. When he recovered, he looked at Lavi with wide eyes, having to restrain himself from speaking above a hissed whisper.

"Venison? Where did you get venison? Its illegal for anyone but the Kings and nobility to even hunt it! They hang anyone who tries!"

"I bought it," Lavi shrugged, nonchalant.

"You don't just _buy _venison off the street. No one sells it!"

Lavi's grin progressed even further. "They do if you know who to bribe."

Allen snorted, looking stricken with amused disbelief. "Are you telling me you bribed some nobleman's chef for this...? How? How did you even manage to meet them?"

"Being a bookman opens many doors," Lavi boasted, leaning back and looking far too satisfied with himself. "If you know how to use it."

"Wouldn't it be noticed if it went missing?" Allen couldn't help but ask.

"Well there's nothing to be miss if _supposedly _some rats or other vermin got into it and _allegedly _spoiled it so it had to be thrown out, now is there?" Lavi smiled cheekily, then quickly added, "That was _my_ idea, by the way."

"You are unbelievable," Allen sighed aloud happily, returning to his plate and savoring every bite of it more than he normally afforded, even for as much as he enjoyed food on a normal standard. It was pure heaven, and the wine to go with it was certainly nothing cheap or standard either.

Filled with good food and drink that left him pleasantly buzzed, he nestled against Lavi's side as they continued to watch the show from above, sticking around for a while afterwards as the actors, spectators, and guard all cleaned up and filed out.

"This was nice," Allen hummed, stifling a yawn. "We should do it again some time."

"Yeah," Lavi returned quietly, trying not to look or sound too guilty.

"Not too often though," Allen chuckled. "Lest you make me too spoiled."

_I only wish I could_, Lavi silently lamented.

He hooked his arms around Allen and fell back, stretching out on the stones and giving him a tender kiss, brushing the hair from his face.

"I love you." Words he rarely spoke, but meant fully when he did say them.

Allen sniggered and returned his kiss, smiling and snuggling closer. "I love you too."

They stayed there perhaps a few too many hours into the night, before finally contenting themselves with going home. Lavi made sure to walk Allen all the way to the Assassin's hideout, waiting for the right time to break his news at last, but that time never seemed to come. He went to call Allen back as he saw the door to the place closing, but the words froze in his throat, and for a while he just stood there staring at it, willing himself to walk forward and knock and talk to Allen properly, but he was rooted to the spot.

Finally he let out a long-suffering sigh and walked home, silently sulking the entire way, telling himself to go back.

Bookman was watching him when the redhead returned but said nothing, and Lavi went to his own room, throwing himself down on the bed to sleep without dreams. Bookman roused him the next morning, ordering him up and to help with packing things up for them to leave.

Suddenly the full weight of that reality was crushing down on him. He was running out of time far too fast.

"Just where are you going?" Bookman demanded when he saw Lavi preparing himself to step out.

"I'll be back, I just got somethin' I gotta do."

"Lavi." The inquiring warning in the old man's voice made him pause. "What you have to do is help me prepare our things to move on to the next record. What else could you have to do that's so important?"

"I-... can't leave yet," Lavi said with a hint of hesitation and antsy impatience. "I didn't get the chance to tell Allen about our going. I need to go and see him."

"You were with him all day yesterday," Bookman pointed out. Lavi stiffened. "And other days before that."

"It slipped my mind," Lavi offered up too quickly and weakly.

"You should have done so sooner," Bookman told him with a crisp, aloof sort of coldness.

"Look, I tried, okay?!" Lavi burst out, his voice cracking with far too much desperation. "But I'm going to go do it now, so-"

He didn't ge the chance to continue. Bookman hit him hard, and he fell back against the wall, his face throbbing where the old man struck him. He didn't bother looking back up, his head bowed and biting his tongue. He'd already said too much, and he knew it, _felt _the disappointment and anger rolling off his mentor in waves.

"I thought I taught you better than this, _Lavi. _Have you become so blinded by your own persona? Have you forgotten what you are?!"

"No," Lavi choked out, blinking back tears. They'd do him no good, and only serve to further damn him in the eyes of Bookman and their Clan. "Of course I haven't."

"I wonder about that," Bookman scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Don't think that I haven't become aware to you and him. I'm not so old that I've gone blind and senile. You think me a fool?"

Lavi shook his head. Discussions carrying hints and warnings to watch himself, however discreetly, reminding him of his responsibilities as a bookman, had come up. More times than he had bothered to count. Bookman had not said anything directly, but they had both known. Lavi had chosen places away from his mentor when he was with Allen for specific reason, whether those choices had been conscious or sub-consciously made.

"I haven't been harsh on you because you've still fulfilled your job as my apprentice, and you are still young, but I see now I should have been less lenient," Bookman growled, and Lavi bowed his head lower, hearing every little note of displeasure and promise in that tone. "You are a bookman first and foremost." Bookman paused, then corrected himself accordingly. "No... you are not a bookman, _yet_. You have much ground to recover in your training, my apprentice."

"Yes, Panda..." Lavi muttered obediently under his breath. That earned him another good whack, but he barely felt it, were truth be told.

More somberly, Bookman ordered him back up to help them pack, intent on making out of the city before night. Lavi obeyed, and nothing more was even mentioned of Allen or anyone else in passing. Soon enough, the place they had been calling _"home"_ for the last two years was entirely clear of everything except its original furnishings, their belongings and articles of work loaded onto a cart.

"Come along, apprentice," Bookman said as he stepped out the door.

"Comin'!" Lavi called, hastily finishing scribbling on a small piece of paper, packing away the very last of his things, which was only a quill and vial of ink. He sauntered to the door and then spun around to close it, glancing over his shoulder at Bookman before discreetly slipping the folded parchment between the door and frame as he shut it.

He hopped down the steps before his old teacher could take too much notice of his lingering and hopped aboard the cart, which began to move before he was even fully settled. He glanced back mournfully as the residence slowly crept from view.

He wished for a proper goodbye. One that someone as uniquely wonderful as Allen deserved, but this, at least, was the best he could manage now: a small note, reading only `_I'm sorry. I won't be coming back this time.`_

And without ever needing to be there, and to see it for himself, he knew.

He'd broken Allen's heart.


End file.
